


For Valor

by charleybradburies



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Bars and Pubs, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Disabled Character, Co-workers, Could Be Canon, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dinner, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Family, Female Friendship, First Dates, Firsts, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Historical Accuracy, Historical References, Idiots in Love, In-Jokes, Little Sisters, Military, Military Background, Military Uniforms, Not Prime Time, Off-screen Relationship(s), Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Series, Post-War, Post-World War II, References to Canon, Relationship(s), Restaurants, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Gestures, Sisters, Surprises, Undecided Relationship(s), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They finally get that drink, but the natural order of things doesn't allow the evening to go as either of them had expected - but that's not to say it doesn't go some of the ways they'd hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Valor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [russian_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/gifts).



Peggy is overdressed. _Definitively_ overdressed. 

Not that she was dressed much differently than she usually was, only a bit less _professional_ than what she wore daily, but this bar seemed equally as much more casual than she’d expected.

She must certainly look like she’s here on a date. She knows that people will be thinking it anyway, when Daniel gets here, simply because they’ll be a man and a woman sitting together, but now she looks like she’s really trussed herself up for the outing, which wasn’t... _entirely_ accurate. After all, she’s not wholly sure that she’s reading him correctly - in which case this evening will consist of friendly discussion and a celebratory round. But if she _is_ correct, then this was a date, or at least a predecessor of a date. Well, hopefully _more_ than one, but considering she doesn’t even know whether this evening _is_ a date, she’d rather not jump at the chance just yet lest Daniel be thinking differently. 

_God,_ she was so wound up. 

She’d thought that perhaps agreeing to drinks on a Friday rather than during the week would make the implicit more clear, but it’d only given her more time to fret over it. Certainly, if he did have feelings of the romantic sort, he had the dignity not to press them on her at work, and she was - mostly - grateful for that, but at the same time, it left a great deal open to interpretation - far more than she’d like. She wasn't even entirely sure of her own feelings, but that doesn't mean they don't hurt and inconvenience her. 

A waitress, or perhaps a hostess, in a teal getup even brighter than Angie's - her smile, though, is far more mischievous, in a oddly natural sort of way - makes her way to Peggy, obviously having noticed her leaning into the wall, not even ten meters from the entryway. 

"Can I seat you 'fore the guy o' your night gets 'ere?" she asks cordially, and Peggy's caught off guard by her joviality and her head of lush black locks, the mass of curls of varying tightnesses reminiscent of the styles of many a star that Peggy'd never heard of before Angie dished all the absurd public information about them at her. 

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you," she agrees, thinking perhaps she'll feel calmer if she settles into a seat - if her posture is more composed and her position settled, and if her purse is no longer weighing on her shoulder.

The younger woman beams even brighter and leads her, with a hand against her back a couple moments, testament to the almost familial atmosphere of the place, to one of the more private booths - not that that's saying much, it's still in full view of the rest of the massive room. 

"Ease up, honey," she says as she gestures for Peggy to take a seat and puts a pair of menus on the table in front of her. 

"This place is sweet, not swanky, you don't gotta give more'n a smile to no one. Ya look like megabucks for these parts, take it from me. I'm Jackie, and you're real killer-diller, no foolin'. Whatever guy ya got comin' round, his checkbook'll be out the _moment_ he's got an eye on ya."

Again, she's practically an exaggerated Angie; she talks at Peggy as though they're old friends, and especially in the realization of similarities Peggy becomes far more comfortable here, being able to have the feeling that the place boasts someone like her best friend. 

_Perhaps that's part of why Daniel enjoys coming here...he_ had _said the atmosphere was particularly friendly._ She tries to keep herself from following up on the semi-obvious conclusion, but doesn't succeed - and when the woman takes leave of her with an enthusiastic "Danny!" it rushes into her with an emptier feeling than she expects. 

She keeps her smile on, hoping it'll become more natural again once they start talking, but it's difficult with the girl's hair flying about and her arm thrust over Daniel's shoulder when he figures out where she is and starts to come over; her arm, though, drops from his shoulder almost immediately. 

"Oh. My. Goodness," the woman gasps excitedly as she follows him; she reaches the table before him, but doesn't seem the least bit uncomfortable about it. She widens her smile - how she still could, Peggy can't fathom - towards Peggy and points back at him.

" _This_ is the guy you were waiting for?" she asks, but counts whatever of Peggy's reaction she's perceiving as a worthy answer before turning to face Daniel again.

"You let a woman wait for you? That's not my Danny!" she scolds teasingly. 

"You are _not_ allowed to call me that in public, and if I'd known she'd be early, I'd have been earlier, so hush," he scolds back easily, and though as he's approaching his reflexive greeting seems to be a handshake, Peggy's already standing up on the side of the booth, so he leans forward for an awkward, eerily gentle hug. 

_Well, they'd only ever hugged once before, anyways, so awkward was inevitable, right? And if the woman's so obviously not offended that he may be on a date..._

Apparently Peggy's inquiries are visible, at least to him, as he looks over at the bouncy waitress and scolds her again.

"You haven't introduced yourself, have you?"

"Didn't know I was s'posed to give her my home address, jeez. Not _my_ fault," she barks back, all the while leaning into the side of the booth as he moves to take a seat, and then stretches her hand out towards Peggy.

"Jacqueline Sousa, but everybody calls me Jackie, and as you can see, my _jerk_ of a brother still thinks he can boss me 'round."

She leans into Daniel, putting her elbow on his shoulder, and looks straight down at him.

"Women don't like that, ya know," she says matter-of-factly, and ruffles his hair.

"I'm _not_ bossing you around. Calm down," he tilts his head up to say. She looks Peggy in the eye, sticks her tongue out for a second and shrugs, and Peggy laughs.

"See? She agrees with me," Jackie declares.

"Right, okay," Daniel playfully shuts her down. It's an intriguing and heartening interaction; he is never so casual with people, never so jovial and happy. 

His _sister._ He's never even mentioned _having_ a sister. Although, if her name and the lack of a ring could be taken as evidence, she was unmarried. Young, beautiful, bubbly - _Peggy_ certainly wouldn't talk about a sister like that around the SSR, either.

By the time Jackie actually takes her leave, telling Peggy to "peruse the menu whenever she gets a chance," Peggy has all but forgotten how uncomfortable she'd been coming in. 

"I'm sorry if her interactions with you were awkward; Jackie tends to assume everyone's as bubbly and overflowing with love as she is, and sometimes it comes off a bit _aggressive,_ " he says only a moment later, his voice holding the same seriousness as usual. 

He very obviously sees the inquisitive expression Peggy makes.

"I'm being more concerned than I should be, aren't I?" 

" _That_ was quite the shift, there. Makes that pink-and-orange vest you wore the other day look tame."

He smiles awkwardly. 

"That _was_ quite conspicuous, wasn't it?"

She sets her elbow on the table, putting her chin in her hand and leaning a bit forward, and Daniel takes a moment to consider rolling his eyes before responding to the cue and continuing, growing more solemn.

"The _only_ way I survive work is to keep everything separate. My family's _always_ been there, through all...all this: the War, the having to come back, other...other consequences. Work status fell, for lack of a more accurate description, like a bomb, as soon as it happened, and other things, too. As a soldier, I was close to it, I was in it, my unit was a group of brothers. If I got _half_ as close to the work we do as I did then, I'd hate myself more."

"More?" Peggy says, her voice comparable to a yelp. They'd both known what she'd been asking - she hadn't intended to interrupt...and then comes the moment of withdrawal, the inevitable point in a conversation of theirs when he starts devising the most polite way to shut her out. 

_It hasn't even been ten minutes and I've already damned the evening. Dear God, Peggy. Can you please get yourself together?_ she tries to demand of herself, but then she decides to eschew some of the caution she thinks she should have, and reaches over to Daniel's side of the table, gently putting her hand atop his. The gesture pulls his gaze back up to meet hers.

"Daniel," she entreats him.

"I'm sorry, Peggy. I _get_ that you want to know but...I can't lie to you," he replies softly.

"Then don't," she says, more quickly and with more force than she expects, and his subsequent sigh and sorrow-bearing attempt of a smile come easily.

"Everything changed direction, that week. I'd had most everything going for me, except that my S.O. and I didn't agree on some matters. Had a career, had a fiancée...disobeyed one order too many, and even though I've gotten lauded for the choice...everything but my family and the choice was all gone once I'd made it."

Peggy struggles for words.

"Your fiancée died in the -"

"No, no," Daniel says abruptly, staring down at the bottom of his glass of ice water, "no, she...she, um, she felt that she bore too much a burden to begin with." 

He takes a sip of water, and Peggy's heart drops yet again.

"She'd had everything going for _her,_ too. A husband that would never properly walk again _wasn't_ something that was worth taking a chance on."

The fingers of the hand of hers still on top of his curl around the sides of his fingers, tightening their grip on him, before she's even realized it. For half a second she wonders if she should pass it off as an empathetic squeeze - _he's just told her about his ex-fiancee, for God's sake!_ \- but then his hand turns over, and he takes the step of intertwining their fingers. Her heart races, pulsating harshly, but she manages what she hopes looks like an understanding, small smile.

"I am so _sorry,_ Daniel," she professes, chiding herself a moment later when the thought comes to her that it was only _because_ of his loss that he was with the SSR, and that she'd had the opportunity to wonder if this were a date. He nods, but she sees him straighten his back, and knows he's changing the topic, probably to something as far away from his injury as possible. He sighs and slips his hand away, but then he asks whether she wants something to eat. 

"I'd already had dinner, not expecting the...range of things here, but I _did_ notice that the menu sported fish and chips..." 

Daniel chuckles, and looks back over his shoulder. Peggy sees his mouth open - she's watching too closely, she reminds herself - but he doesn't have to say anything, since Jackie skips over eagerly. 

"Sweetheart wants something?" she asks immediately, pulling out a pad and looking straight at Peggy.

"Um, fish and chips," Peggy answers. 

"Wanna share a bigger order?" she glances down at her brother; he nods, confirming that with Peggy.

"It won't be too much, will it? I did bring my-"

"Honey, you don't pay for _nothing_ underneath this roof. Don't _even_ try - ya sat down with 'im, no one here's gonna let you pay," attests Jackie enthusiastically; Peggy puts her hands up as though she were admitting hypothetical defeat in a more serious matter, and Jackie takes it with a strong nod, setting her hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Ave Maria?"

"Ave Maria," he nods, and Jackie looks back to the confused Peggy. 

"Agave Margarita?" 

"Why not?" Peggy answers, and Jackie nods in agreement, returning with a pair of buttercup-colored drinks far more quickly than Peggy'd imagined.

"Millie'll be out with the fish and chips soon," she says after she sets them on the table, and disappears with a wave, the bright skirt of her uniform twirling with her as she heads to the other end of the room and exuberantly greets someone else. _Definitely_ a brighter-hued and darker-haired version of Angie.

"And _now_ you know why I mention coming here often," Daniel says lightly. 

"The place has belonged to an old friend of our dad's for years - I've only paid here once, and even then, they weren't actually expecting me to."

Peggy cocks her head.

"My first date. I wasn't exactly about to admit that I was flat broke."

He grimaces, but in good humor, and as they're both chuckling he sobers slightly and reaches for something in one of his trouser pockets. She hopes it's a photograph - it's hard to imagine quite what he'd looked like as a bubbly, energetic child or a teenager - but then he pauses and she knows it's not. 

"I brought something for you," Daniel says tentatively, and Peggy hopes she isn't blushing - at least, if she is, she was probably already redder from laughing to begin with.

"I obviously think it's a gesture worth doing, but I don't know how you'll think of it so, I suppose you should be aware of that."

Peggy nods in agreement, and now she _knows_ she's blushing. _Oh, Lord._

His next breath is sharp, but he pulls out a small, nearly flat box anyway, putting it on the table in front of her; she looks at him curiously, but he gives no verbal reply, only sets his fingertips on its back and nudges it closer. She grabs it, still looking at his fine face in hopes of an explanation as she sets it atop one of her palms and pulls the top off of the box with the other. 

She almost drops the box in a gasp.

"I know, you said that since _you_ know your value, others' opinions don't matter. But it matters to _me._ It matters that you _know_ someone else sees what you are capable of. Sees _you._ Not in a begrudging way like Thompson's starting to, or even like Mr Jarvis, stuck between you and Stark. Maybe I haven't _always_ been on your side, but I need to be sure you know that I _am._ "

Peggy can feel tears coming to her eyes, and she blinks them away as best she can. 

"You asked me out to a drink to give me... _your_ Medal of Honor? Daniel..."

_Oh, what words were there? What feelings? Gratitude, affection, horror..._

"Daniel, I can't _possibly_ take this," she says, her voice itself practically a sigh.

"Take it. A token of...reminder."

"And what will remind _you?_ Of the value of what _you_ have done?"

He has no answer but a gulp and a subsequent moment of avoidance of her eyes, and honestly, she's not surprised. Still, she reaches forward and grabs his hand again. 

"I know that our colleagues feel quite...differently, about _both_ of us, but Daniel...I see _you_ as well. And I could _never_ allow to discount all that _you_ have done simply for a chance to...you have great value as well and it pains me that you never seem to see it except in jest," she shoves the words out clunkily, her throat closing on her seemingly as soon as her mouth has finished with them. He may not have known what to expect of her, but this obviously had _not_ been within the range of possibilities of which he'd conceived. She can't stand that he's not responding, that he doesn't know, that the small moments of silence between them now are heavy with hurt, so she decides she'd rather keep speaking than wait for the clock to tick off the seconds until Daniel speaks again.

"Clearly there _are_ women...and others, who do not share my view, but that is her - _their_ \- loss." 

He's noticed the peculiarities of her fumble, she can tell; the tense, almost dark solemnity that his eyes had held melts like chocolate - which is not only one of the most cliche thoughts she's ever had, but also one that she does find rather accurate - and his posture softens some, though it continues to convey his lack of comfort with the topic of conversation. It reminds her of a habit of his at work, his deflection; so often he was denying himself the acceptance of even the smallest compliments, and he only drew positive attention to himself when it either made a point about her, frustrated Thompson, or both. _He doesn't believe he deserves it._

It's a sudden, emotional decision, but she pushes herself out of her seat and goes over to his side. He shifts himself to face her with his increasingly confused expression, moving his crutch further away so that she's at less of a risk of bumping into it. 

_So_ bloody _accommodating._

Peggy takes a deep breath and turns the medal towards herself, plucking it from the box with the greatest care she can. 

"Peggy..." Daniel says, a plea and a protest against what he's realized she's planning to do, but she moves a bit closer and sets the medal down again to turn up his collar, and he doesn't insist on amplifying his resistance.

Now, with him turned in her direction, she realizes that perhaps she should have pulled a chair over from a nearby table - his eye level is at least an inconvenience, although there's a chance that's part of what's keeping his gaze trained up towards hers, and even if it weren't keeping his eyes upwards she couldn't honestly say that she minded. They _weren't_ in the office, after all. They were in a bar where his sister was serving them, almost certainly thinking he's courting her. 

_Perhaps he is,_ she thinks, and feels a bit embarrassed about the way her heartbeat comes with greater force for the subsequent few seconds.

His hair is soft rather than coarse, she discovers as she cues him to bow his head forward slightly to ease the task of sliding the ribbon over him. His movement comes tentatively, but he does oblige her, allowing her to slip the ribbon around his neck and set it upon his collar, fingers moving gingerly as they curl his shirt collar back down around the ribbon and absentmindedly touch the medal itself again. It sits at the top of his sternum, and her hand graces his chest slightly below it as she loosens her already-slight hold on the medal and leaves it to rest against his chest. 

She meets his gaze, and now the darkness is gone, replaced by curiosity and something else she's not sure of.

"You were _awarded_ this medal, Daniel," she answers his unspoken question, her voice barely a murmur - it just feels like it would be inappropriate to grant the conversation full volume here; there's a lack of true concern for _some_ propriety, however, as a hand of hers drifts to his shoulder. 

"For actions _above_ and _beyond_ the call of duty...and you would indeed be doing us both a favor to remember that. That you've done that and continue to."

Daniel nods slowly, his lips pursed until he parts them to speak.

"I figured out a while ago that our interactions never go quite how I presume they might...but this, _this_ takes the cake," he chuckles softly.

"Really? Even compared to having to arrest me because I was working Howard's angle on his case?" she jests, and his eyes light with withheld laughter as he teasingly winces at the reminder. Now, when a silence settles between them, it's a comfortable, easy one, during which her hand drifts to his cheek. 

Momentarily she fears the motion was in error but Daniel's lips purse again and his head tilts in the direction of her hand, and _oh, God, this was a date, whether he'd really planned it to be or not._

"You know, most men would have settled for procuring a congratulatory bouquet of flowers," she says eventually, partly in jest, partly in awe of the gesture, and partly in the realization that only a matter of minutes ago they'd actually ordered food, and in want of a change in disposition to precede the rest of the evening.

"That may be true, but I assure you, Peggy, that I have no intention of treating you the way I observe other men treating you."


End file.
